


brother, you will never know

by indefinissable



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Gen, Hurt Jared Padalecki, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, On Set
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 10:02:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8663107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indefinissable/pseuds/indefinissable
Summary: When he gets to his feet, Jensen is pretty sure he’s the only one who really notices that Jared has gone pale. The little creases of pain at the corners of his mouth and the way he’s clearing his throat like he always does when he’s anxious. He tests his weight out on the ankle and flinches almost imperceptibly. Jensen watches him take several measured breaths, takes in the twitching of his fingers that means Jared’s itching to run them through his hair. His favourite self-soothing gesture.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on tumblr, in response to the prompt: _Jared spraining his ankle on set and Jensen supporting him_.

Jensen sees Jared botch the landing, the way his ankle turns in awkwardly and the little stumble where he tries to catch his balance before he winds up on his ass in the dirt. Forgetting the stunt and acting on the dizzy, adrenaline-fuelled instinct that comes with falling.

Jared laughs it off. Of course he does. He’s already laughing when he sits up and curses – “Fuck. Ow.” – breaking character and the scene and everyone’s laughing with him. Even Jensen, if he’s honest with himself. There’s a particularly satisfying brand of schadenfreude that comes with watching someone you spend all your time with screw up at work in front of your friends and coworkers.

When he gets to his feet, though, Jensen is pretty sure he’s the only one who really notices that Jared has gone pale. The little creases of pain at the corners of his mouth and the way he’s clearing his throat like he always does when he’s anxious. He tests his weight out on the ankle and flinches almost imperceptibly. Jensen watches him take several measured breaths, takes in the twitching of his fingers that means Jared’s itching to run them through his hair. His favourite self-soothing gesture.

Jensen knows he’s the only one who sees most of it, another perk of spending as much time with Jared as he does. It makes him want to call the day then and there, stop filming and get Jared checked out by first aid and fed and warm. As it is, they’re on location forty-five minutes outside Vancouver and slowly nearing the end of a long night of filming, which complicates things a bit. Jensen will still do it if he thinks Jared needs to stop.

Jared looks at him then, the edge of a sheepish smile still on his lips. Jensen raises his eyebrows and shoots him a chin-up nod. _You okay?_

In return, he gets a waist-level thumbs-up. _All good._

The thing about Jared is he’ll never say he’s not okay. If he does, it’s only at great cost. Jensen vividly remembers Jared at twenty-five, curled up so tight on the floor of his trailer like he was trying his hardest to disappear, remembers how helplessly afraid it made him to hear Jared whisper, _I can’t do it anymore. I just want it all to stop._ Or Jared at thirty-one, glazed with pain and drugs and going days without medical attention for a shoulder injury that urgently needed surgery because he was so scared of letting people down. Always terrified of not being enough.

This time, Jared really is okay. They got the stunt shot on an earlier take, and it was the last action shot of the scene. Pretty much the only thing they have left is a few pages of dialogue, which means Jared is mostly able to stand still for the rest of the night while he delivers his lines. He never once lets it affect his performance. Still, Jensen sees him start to fade as the adrenaline drains away and pain sets in. The deep shadows under his eyes and the way he’s chewing on his bottom lip between takes. How quiet he is, still where he’s usually bursting with nervous energy.

By the time they wrap just after three in the morning, Jared looks completely wiped. He doesn’t move off his mark, stands there blinking and distant for several long moments until Jensen pulls on his arm, takes some of the weight off Jared’s bad side. Jared exhales and sags into him gratefully. He’s shivering just a little.

“Okay, big guy,” Jensen says. “Let’s go get that ankle checked out.”

“No.” Jared is shaking his head before Jensen finishes his sentence. He sounds exhausted. “No. I just want to go home. I’m fine.”

“Jared.”

“It’s just a sprain, Jay. I’m okay. If it feels worse tomorrow, I’ll get it looked at. Promise.”

There’s a particular tone of desperation Jared takes when he’s really not okay and trying to hide it. Jensen listens, but he doesn’t hear it. Not that he’s convinced Jared is absolutely fine, but it’s enough to have him breathing a sigh of relief.

“All right. Let’s get changed and go home, then.”

It’s nearly four by the time they’re back out of makeup and wardrobe and in the car home. Without makeup, Jared looks even more dead on his feet, pale and drawn. He’s limping badly, and he has trouble getting his shoe on over the swollen ankle after he changes back into his clothes. He gets some ice on it in the car, then passes out five minutes into the drive and doesn’t wake up until they’re outside his apartment.

Jensen says goodnight to Clif and gets out of the car with Jared, taking most of his weight again.

Jared leans on him heavily, slow with pain and sleep. He says, “You like my couch that much?” and it means, _Thanks_.

“Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t fall and get stuck on the floor like an eighty-year-old woman in an infomercial,” Jensen says, and it means, _Yeah_. _I’ve got you_.

Jared wants to go to bed as soon as they get up to his apartment, but Jensen stops him. “Nope. Shower, then meds, then sleep.”

Jared grumbles unhappily, but obliges and heads to the bathroom.

Outside Jared’s floor-to-ceiling windows, the horizon is creeping from inky black to grey. The sun is already up in Austin. Jensen crashes on the couch and fights the urge to call Danneel, knows she’s probably still sleeping.

When Jared emerges twenty minutes later, smelling strongly of shampoo, he’s still limping but clearly more relaxed, much of the tension he carries in his shoulders melted away by the heat of the shower. He joins Jensen where he’s dozing on the couch and wraps a cold pack around his ankle, which has finished swelling and settled into a nasty shade of purple-grey. Jared is asleep within minutes, splayed out with his head on the arm of the couch. The exhausted lines around his eyes and mouth are smoothed out in sleep. His lips are parted just a little and he’s snoring softly.

Jensen covers him with a throw blanket, then snaps a picture and texts it to Gen. _Long day. All good but Gigantor sprained his ankle. Talk later._

She must already be up with the kids, because it’s only two minutes before his phone buzzes with a reply. _Aww, look how sweet he is. Thanks for looking out, J. xoxo_

Jensen types, _Just doing my job_. He looks at the words for a minute, then deletes the message without sending it.

Some things don’t need to be said.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr [@withthedemonblood](http://withthedemonblood.tumblr.com/).


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